Our Little Understanding
by Superphantastisch
Summary: The everyday routine of Burns and Smithers changes ever so slightly to accomodate their relationship. Slash, obviously. oneshot


_**a/n: **ahoy friends and fiends, time for me to find a productive use of my Burns & Smithers love. Have fun and spread the fandom, yo_

**Our Little Understanding**

If anyone was watching, they would find that the routine was essentially the same. In the morning I brought him his coffee and paper; in the evening, I catered to his fantastical whimsies of the day. Today he decided upon a steamed ham.

After a slavish hour spent in the kitchen, the idea of presenting it to my boss made me light-headed with anticipation. I constantly sought approval from him, even after what had happened between us.

I stepped into the dining hall and set it down in front of Mr. Burns, who eyed it scrutinizingly like he had every evening for countless years, before even touching it. "Here you are Monty, just the way you like it. I hope it's not too hard to chew."

"Yes... " he trailed off, finally prodding at the large ham with a fork. I noticed with some personal pleasure that he was easily able to tear off a piece despite his physical condition.

When he looked up at me, I realized I had been watching him expectantly for some time. "Well, don't just stand there, Waylon, sit down." He motioned with a little sweep of his hand.

"With pleasure sir." I sat and ate.

--

I drove Mr. Burns home at around 6:00. Like every other day, he was talkative, today in a generally upbeat way. Business was great! Employee spontaneity and free thought were at record lows! He sounded as if he hadn't a care in the world. On any given day, his mood seemed to vacillate constantly between this and a more dastardly 'scheming' mode, depending on whether or not something was out of the ordinary with his life. I noted a little bemusedly that Homer Simpson hadn't been causing us any... _extraordinary_ trouble in days.

"Smithers, run the bath, will you?" He asked from his arm chair, in between chuckles caused by the TV. I glanced up from my book. He only had a handful of movies and most of them predated the 1950's – I didn't even recognize what was on now.

"Which bath sir? Your private bath or the master bath?"

"The latter will do. I'm sure you're in need of a little scrubbing up yourself." I had bathed this morning but was too elated to raise this point. I hurried upstairs to prepare things.

The master bath was obviously built with company in mind, and a certain type of company at that. It had multiple faucets, all topped with tiny marble swans, and surrounded with expensive plush curtains. Most of the extravagances this room afforded were just that, extravagant and not practical in the slightest. This room had always made me roll my eyes, perhaps because it seemed to me like it was suited for _female_ company – until of course I became the first "company" Mr. Burns entertained in that tub since the room's creation.

Now the extravagances seemed to prove their original purpose – to me, they were classy, and special.

After ten minutes the long, ecliptical tub was filled with lukewarm water, exactly to his preference, and I helped him undress, before slowly following suit. I had gotten a lot less shy about doing this in front of my boss, but this part of the routine was still quite new. I climbed into the tub after him, leaning against the opposite end so that we were facing each other. He was absently lifting a soaked washcloth to his face, smiling in that way that made him look younger, and humming an old tune.

"Careful on the scrubbing Monty, don't break the skin," I warned him before I could stop myself. He just shook off my concerns with another flip of the wrist.

"Oh lighten up, my friend... I feel like a regular spring chicken," He handed me a second one. "Don't forget to scrub behind the ears!"

I was about to comment when I realized he may have been jovially mocking me. I just sighed in slow bliss, eternally grateful that such a day had finally come, where we had reached such an understanding.

--

The night was clear and starry, the kind that we don't usually get here in Springfield (admittedly, partly due to the nuclear fumes). I helped Monty into his bathrobe and we lounged about on the couch in front of the fireplace, interrupted only by a Jehovah's Witness at the door, on whom I was instructed to release the hounds. This lifted his mood further still and he went to bed perfectly content.

I stayed up a bit longer, partially to finish my book, and also because I found it difficult to sleep at 9 PM. But, little by little, my body was coming to embrace his schedule.

I joined him at around 9:30, trying not to jostle the mattress or make any sound which might alert him of my presence. But when I laid down next to my boss, best friend, and lover, I found his lidded eyes looking back at me.

"There you are Waylon." He murmured. I noticed Bobo at his side and couldn't resist smiling.

"You're still awake, sir?" I asked with some masked surprise. I'd found over the years that he was quick to sleep.

"Ah yes, I was waiting for you." Every drop of my blood churned willfully in my veins and my soul beamed with love. Then he continued, "Will you close the curtains? It's dreadfully bright in here."

"Of course sir." I pulled the drawstring and the fabric fell shut, obscuring the window. The thousands of night stars disappeared from sight. I slipped back under the sheets and let the vastness hover over us both.


End file.
